Think of Nothing Tonight
by HonestToSam
Summary: John leaves the boys in another motel. Sam deals with their last hunt and Dean deals with Sam.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer; Don't own anything :)

Second story, it's going somewhere, at some point... slowly. Set before Sam left for Stanford.

* * *

It's another Easter in another fluorescent motel. The curtains are drawn, the door locked and salted – along with the window sills. As the majority woke to handfuls of chocolate and a doting family, Sam and Dean slept. Last night they'd struck the golden idea to create their own Easter. So Dean hid his handgun down the back of his jeans and they walked the half an hour to the only 24/7 convenience store they'd seen on the way into Crowley, LA.

The Days Inn played as residence to all sorts of characters who sauntered in off of route 100, so when John Winchester pulled up they didn't bat an eyelid. The Impala was making an awful chugging noise that broke all three boys' hearts, they couldn't bear to see her go, but they didn't have the time or patience to sit and fix her. The receptionist was busy tapping her fingers against the hard wood of her desk; she flipped the page of her magazine and smacked her gums. Dean was checking her out from where he lent against the Impala, Sam nudged him hard and he broke from his raunchy day dreams.

"You're annoying, kid." Dean mumbled.

John threw one of his credit cards down in front of the girl, right on the poster of John Stamos she was gawking at.

"2 queens," He spoke harsher then he'd meant too. Truth is he hadn't spoken in hours and his voice had grown rather horse. He happened to catch a glimpse of himself in framed photograph of when the Inn first opened, he was a mess. There was a deep cut under his left eye that more than likely needed stitches, his hair was coated in a thick layer of dust and grime and the right side of his neck had a rather dense cover of blood – not his. He flipped up the collar of his leather jacket to hide it.

"Smoking or non-smoking?" She didn't even look at him, he thought it was probably a safety precaution in all no-tell motels. Don't know what kind of crazy's going to walk through the front door and want a roof, and its best not to ask.

"Non." He replied, this time he made a conscious effort to sound less like Oscar the grouch.

"Dad, c'mon, please, its Easter can't you just stay for a day or two?" Sam pleaded as John cleaned and checked his arsenal.

"Sam, you _know _I can't."

Dean stayed quiet, though Sam was voicing his feelings exactly, he couldn't help but remain on his father's side, after all he was probably right.

"Dad, a day isn't going to do anything."

"How do you know that, Sam? What if someone else dies? Do you want to be held accountable because you're selfish?"

Dean clicked his tongue involuntarily; his father had struck a chord, crossed a line and Sam didn't retaliate

"I'm sorry boy, it's just you saw this thing, it isn't going down without a fight. If I had a choice I'd be here, but you know I can't" John put aside the rag in his hand, he was glad that he'd taken the time to have a shower but he'd wasted precious seconds when he could be hunting this damn thing. "I'll get you boys dinner before I leave any special requests?"

Sam didn't answer, he trudged down to the Impala to get the last of his belongings; they could be stuck in this second floor corner motel room for another two weeks.

"Dean?" John tried to prompt an answer out of him. Dean nodded to his father, John knew what Dean would have, and then he followed Sam out the door.

After their father had left they stayed mostly in silence, occasionally Dean would make a snide remark about the events on the television, but other than that conversation between them did not exist. Sam sat on the bed farthest from the door as usual while Dean occupied the other, his eyes were not on the television set; they wandered over the walls of the room, lost in deep thought.

Sam didn't sleep that night, his mind playing over the events in Henderson. He knew it wasn't his fault, well at least that's what he wanted to believe. His fingers tore into his duvet cover, leaving tell tale rips across its broad surface. If only he could move faster, if he were stronger, if he didn't have such a strong sense of survival and an attachment to life – well then maybe, just maybe.

"Watch the sun come up Sammy? Was it all romantic like? Do you want to hold my hand?" Dean mumbled half asleep as the clock buzzed on 7:30.

"I call the shower." Sam moved for the first time in 6 hours towards the bathroom.

Dean worried himself with Sam and went over the salt lines, looking for any kind of break. He knew Henderson was still with him, that kind of thing just doesn't dissipate, it was going to follow them both for some time.

After they had been washed, they, yet again, settled in to watch day time TV. Dean felt the dense atmosphere, it was strangling them both.

"What do you want to do today man?" he asked.

Sam scoffed, "Sit here, like good little soldiers. Orders are to stay in the room Dean – like _always._"

"Screw the rules Sammy, let's do something. I can't sit here watching Days of Our Lives."

"Don't you want to know if the doctors' her brother?"

"Hell no, didn't you watch yesterday? _What they did. _"

Sam laughed, it was hollow but it still gave Dean hope.

"So Sammy, watcha up for? We could jack a car, drive to New Orleans."

"Bit late for Mardi Gras Dean."

"Really?"

"Yeah it was a month ago."

"Next year then."

Sam let the subject sit; _he didn't want to think about next year. _He wanted nothing more than to finish school, go to college, get a degree – put something to the Winchester name then a slew of bizarre corpses.

Dean left to get them lunch grudgingly at 12, he had almost begged Sam to join him, but as always Sam was stubbornly stuck in his stupor.

The girl behind the fast food checkout counter gave Dean a sly smile and an idea; apparently there was something to do in this town. He got her number, an ego boost and an invitation to a party. It was all so typically high school, which is what Sam had always wanted; a sense of normalcy.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer; Although I do dream of owning Sam and Dean, reality says I don't.

This was initially supposed to come sooner, but alas over the last few days I've had myriad setbacks and social obligations. Also it's just as slowly getting to the point as the last chapter.

* * *

The motel room was colder when Dean came back. Sam was pouring over a newspaper he'd stolen from the reception, it was habit. He noticed the mass of aging newspapers teetering by the table and his understanding grew. Dean wasn't sure what Sam was looking for but it was definitely a symptom of his ever increasing psychosis.

"Whatcha doing Sammy?" He clunked down the fast food bags next to the newspapers, grabbing one of the burgers and impatiently tore apart the packaging.

"I think I've found a pattern Dean." Sam's eyes alight with redemption as he broke the news to his brother.

Dean was less enthusiastic about this revelation; he took a monstrous bite of the burger; buying him time to form a delicate reply. Sam shoved a newspaper article under his nose; at first he noticed the smiling family: A mother, father and two daughters. His eyes wandered over the headline, '_Entire family slaughtered in own home'._

"May not be our kinda gig Sam." Dean tried his hardest to hide his complete and utter lack of interest in this 'case' and his concern for his brothers well being.

"Fourth family in the last 40 years."

"One every decade?' Sam nodded the reply, "Sounds like a ritual." The facts started to intrigue Dean.

"Always in February."

"It's April."

"Yeah, I know-"

"It's long gone Sammy."

"You don't know that."

"You're right, I don't but whatever this is, I don't think it's going to stick around here. There's nothing to do here," Sam scoffed at Dean's naivety, "Hey Sam-"

"We should probably check out the house. Might still be something there, sulphur, residuals that could be picked up by EMF? But then again-"

"Hey!" Dean took control, Sam was running ideas too quickly and he knew if he let it flow they'd end up casing the entire town looking for something to spur Sam on in his maddening expedition to find salvation. "Sam, people could live in the house, what are we going to do? Kick 'em out for the night because you have an insane _hunch_?"

"It isn't a hunch Dean; the facts are here, clear as day." Sam was defensive, waving the articles at him again.

"You think I don't know what this is about?"

"It's not, this is an actual case, and people could die if we don't do anything."

"You honestly believe Dad would have left us in a town where a monster was actively slaughtering people?"

"He doesn't have time to track everything, Dean. He's not superman, no matter how hard you wish he was."

"Wait? What?"

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sick of your damn snideness, eat or I'm shoving the burger down your throat."

Dean made little tears into the docket with the counter girls' number on it, turning over the options. He _could _call her, go out, have a little fun _or_ he could sit here watching his brother pace the room making up excuses for his madness. The latter was less appealing, but as always _Sammy first._

"Do you want to go out tonight?" Sam suddenly shot at Dean.

"I just don't fancy you that way Sammy, but nice try."

"No, the number you've been staring at for the past hour, are you going out with her?"

"You know I'm not the relationship kinda guy." Dean winked at Sam.

"Don't avoid the subject. Are you going?" Sam's fingers tapped against the linoleum table he was growing irritated with Dean's indirectness and evasion to the issue.

"Can't leave you alone, can I Sam?"

Sam felt his breath hitch in his throat, his entire being wanted to reach out and hit Dean – _hard_. He was sick of being "protected", for once he just wanted people to trust him. He hadn't done anything really to prove that he needed the constant guard and surveillance. Sure he was clumsy sometimes, but he was adjusting to his new sudden growth. He had an almost constant feeling of vertigo that was hard to shake. His arms were more in the way of his actions rather than useful limbs, and he tripped over his feet more often than not. But then again the protective detail had been with him his entire life. Tonight he wanted for himself, he had a plan and with Dean gone he wouldn't have to put his sorely lacking stealth to use. Sam tried to coax Dean into his favourable decision, "You could, I wouldn't mind. I've been alone before and been just fine."

"Oakland," Was Deans only reply.

"I'm alive aren't I?"

"You _could've _died. What did I tell you _Sammy_ 'stay in the room, don't do anything foolish, stay in the room,' and what did you do?"

"I left it but-"

"You're damn lucky I was close by."

"I would've been able to handle it Dean, they were just stupid kids."

"Stupid kids that were beating your ass black and blue."

Dean sighed; he hung his head in his hands. The places he had seen, the experiences he held – the times he could've lost Sam, the big _what ifs._ Looking around he realised how tired he was of the decor, not just in this room but in every single motel they've inhabited over their entire lifetime. One day he wanted to sit in a room on a chair he bought and picked out, it wasn't that big of a wish right? _Home._ The _what ifs _ wouldn't seem so devouring in that setting

"C'mon, don't let me stop you from mercilessly hitting on the girl." Sam saw his brother, worn and beaten finally come to a conclusion before he could verbalise his choice

"Check the lines before you go to bed, sleep with both a knife AND handgun under your pillow. Don't shoot me when I get back." Dean didn't appreciate the utter joy in Sam's eyes as he realised he was being left alone for the night. They had been getting on each other's nerves for awhile, and Henderson had pushed them over the edge. A few hours apart will do them both well. Dean played with the idea of asking Sam to come along, but he tossed it aside quickly. There had to be a line somewhere in his life where he separated his desperate need to protect Sam and his own satisfaction – this was probably it. He knew he had initially rationalized the invitation as a way to help Sammy, but Dean was a selfish creature when it came to pleasure

"Won't miss you." Sam quipped.

"C'mon, I know as soon as I leave you'll be pining for me."

"Other way around Dean."

"Brother, I'll be in the company of one of the states finest." He jested.

"Doesn't seem like your type."

"You're right, maybe I should stay."

"Go."

Dean gave Sam a cheeky smirk, checked the knife in his leather jacket and slammed the door on him. He knew better than to trust his brother, Sam was completely translucent in his lame attempt.


End file.
